Chain of Sorrows
by Sapphire Warrioress
Summary: Each thread has a story to tell in the tapestry woven by the skilled fingers of The Moirae. In these tales the fates of warriors and queens, gods and heros are bound together by the shared knowledge of joy and pain.
1. Chapter 1 Demeter

Pain.

It is such a simple word, and yet it contains a wealth and depth of meaning I am only just beginning to comprehend.

At first I think that my essence is disturbed by trouble within my realm.

As a goddess of nature and the harvest, I am inextricably linked to the song of the earth and anything that flourishes within its embrace.

But what I feel in that moment is deeper than anything related to my duties as goddess of the grain.

Something vital to my existence has just been brutally severed, leaving emptiness and a sorrow beyond description in its wake. And there is only one thing that brings me such joy and fulfillment.

The bond I share with my only daughter, sweet and gentle Persephone.

Immediately I cast my senses outward, calling out to all things that answered to my command with a simple question.

"Have any seen my Persephone?" And from the ripening stalks of grain, the flowers of the meadows, and the very core of the earth the answer comes back.

"She is not here, my lady."

To an immortal the concept of death is something unknown, yet in that moment I feel as if something precious beyond description has been taken

That corner of my being, which has from the moment of my child's birth echoed the warmth, joy and brightness of my Persephone's spirit, is now barren.

Where once deep communion between mother and child has flourished, now there is only a terrible silence unbroken by anything save for my anguished lament.

For what seems like an eternity I pour all of my power into a desperate search, until at last utterly spent I am forced to admit defeat.

So I seek out my divine brethren, and at last through Hecate's aid am directed to Helios. And what he reveals kindles a rage and grief so intense that it takes all of my failing strength to remain in my immortal form.

Zeus my brother and former lover, has given my dearest child into the embrace of dark Hades, to be made his bride and queen of the underworld for eternity.

It is too much.

My endless strength broken by the shock of this revelation, I am no longer a goddess of rebirth, but a mother in mourning for her daughter.

Recklessly I cast off my divinity, assuming the shape of a woman bent with age and sorrow.

For days I wander the earth, taking neither rest nor ambrosia to sustain my essence, until at last I come to the city of Eleusis.

There I meet the king's daughters, and find such favor with the queen that she appoints me nurse to the little prince.

Never before had I realized the fragility of a mortal's body, until the queen hands me the precious child.

And as I hold him close, a thought forms which momentarily drives back my grief.

It would be fitting that just as Hades has stolen my beloved daughter, taken her to a realm where her bright spirit can no longer flourish, I take steps to keep another child's soul beyond his reach.

My course decided I smile down at the infant, assuring the queen that I will care for him as if he were my own son.

In secret I anoint him with ambrosia, and give to him strength and nourishment as I fill him with the glory of my presence

And in the deep hours of the night I place him in the heart of the fire, so that in time his mortality will be burned away leaving a deathless and ageless prince in its stead.

Silently I bless Metaneira for giving me this child to nurse, for it has helped to assuage the constant ache of loss and grief I have known since the abduction of my precious child.

But even the gods are subject to the will of destiny, and though I take care to conceal my work the time comes when I am discovered.

I have just placed the child at the heart of the flames one evening, when a cry of shock and horror causes me to turn towards the door.

There stands Metaneira; pale and trembling, eyes alight with fear and the pain of betrayal.

In vain does she call to her little son to awaken, for his soul has already fled to the underworld.

Perhaps it is this pointless death which causes me to lash out in fury, to reveal myself to this mortal queen and tell of my plan to grant her boy immortality.

It is only centuries later that I realize an astonishing truth.

I was so consumed by anger as I took my leave, that I never considered that here was one who could truly comprehend the depths of my pain and rage. For though Metaneira was only a mortal, she became in that moment a mother now mourning the loss of a beloved child.

The fires of rage and grief rekindled, I send my power forth.

All on Olympus hear my proclamation, declaring that nothing would flourish on the earth until Zeus commanded Hades to return my child.

And though the king of gods sends many of my divine brethren in an attempt to placate my anger, every appeal is rejected.

So I wait within my temple at Eleusis, built on the orders of the king in an attempt to calm my fury.

I remain cold and unyielding, a being of stoic indifference to the fates of mortals.

Not even the deaths of children cause a spark of compassion to be ignited in the shattered core of my essence, for I have none left to give.

All of my energy is devoted to rage and the need for vengeance, which will not be quenched until I might look upon the face of my beloved daughter and hold her close in my arms once more.

Only then, will I relent and bless the earth.

_Note from the authoress: I wrote this after hearing a lecture on Demeter, and thought I'd post it here for fun. _

_I'm hoping to write chapters from the perspectives of Metaneira, Persephone and of course Hades._

_Or I might just write more chapters from the viewpoints of different figures from classical myths. If anyone would prefer that idea just let me know in a review, I'd really like to tackle Clytemnestra._

_Feedback is greatly appreciated._

Thanks_ for reading. _


	2. Chapter 2 Persephone

I pace the length of my chamber, frustrated and angry at the fates for weaving this possibility into my existence.

For three hours I have sought a means of escape, using all the power I possess to find a way to freedom.

At last exhausted I sink onto the bed and once more survey my surroundings.

In spite of my desperate situation I cannot help but admire my prison.

For the first time since my arrival I gaze at the rich furnishings, and the drapes of velvet as dark as night that shroud the windows.

The furniture is of cedar, intricately carved and elegant, and robes woven of the finest cloth hang ready for me to use.

The bright flash of pearl catches my attention, and I am drawn towards the table where a box of carved oak rests.

Its surface is inlaid with mother of pearl, and as I lift the lid my breath catches in wonder.

Spread out before me are jewels of exquisite beauty. My fingers reach out to caress their brightness, and my soul glories in the feast of color lord Hades has offered for my enjoyment.

I gaze at the blood red rubies, set beside the clear fire of diamonds, deep blue of sapphires and the cool green of emeralds.

Hair combs of silver, gold and ivory, rings and bracelets fashioned from finely wrought gold cause me to gasp in awe at their elegance and beauty.

Chains of bright gold and silver, set with precious stones catch the light of the torches set at intervals throughout the room.

This is surely a chamber fit for a queen, and yet it brings me no joy.

If only I could have chosen my groom, I might have found the strength to reconcile myself to the marriage my father has arranged with lord Hades.

Instead I am taken against my will, forced to be queen of a realm which is stifling and crushing my essence.

I am not meant for this life, where nothing flourishes in the dark save the anguished cries of souls tormented and the echoes of those bound to an existence devoid of warmth and joy.

I have seen the kingdom my groom rules, and though I cannot help but admire his effortless control over his power and his determination to deal justly with all under his care, I refuse to be forced to take up the mantle of queen.

He comes to me every evening, offering me riches and the gift of his passion, but I cannot give what he most desires.

I want to return his love, to show him that I appreciate his kindness and concern for my welfare, but am held back by sorrow, stubbornness and the longing for my gentle mother.

Since the moment of my birth she and I have shared an extraordinary bond, one which has grown in depth and complexity as I grow and learn to master my power.

It is a kinship of mind and essence beyond mortal words to describe, a deep awareness of the other's thoughts bound by our love and power over the earth and her riches.

And its loss is what is slowly killing me, even more than my absence from the sun lit lands.

Nor can I ignore the constant pangs of hunger, something which as a goddess is a new experience.

Servants are sent to tempt me with dishes of the finest food at the breaking of dawn and the noon hour, but I always turn away their entreaties that I eat with polite refusal.

But the evenings are the worst, where I am asked to join my lord in the throne room and he escorts me to a table set with gold and crystal.

He lays out the banquet before me, and I long to partake of the rich fare. Roasted meats and fruits, golden bread and blood red wine, each calls to me to take, devour and glory in their taste and the nourishment they will bestow on my exhausted body.

But I know the unwritten law. Anyone who eats the food of the dead can never return to the world above.

These feasts are fast becoming a sweet torture, all the more intense because I know lord Hades desires nothing more than my comfort.

Even now that hour is drawing close, and automatically I reach out to select some jewels to wear to the feast.

He would want me to wear one of his gifts.

My eyes are drawn to a necklace of sapphires set amidst a chain of delicate golden strands.

A fresh upwelling of grief renders me breathless for an instant, for this rich gift reminds me of the beauty of the morning sky.

I lift it from its resting place with a sigh of mingled longing and sorrow.

If I cannot gaze upon the glory of Eos, at least I have something to remind me of the splendor of her presence.

I fasten the necklace about my throat, hating its cold lifeless weight.

Many a princess would be overjoyed to wear such exquisite jewels, but to me they are a harsh reminder of the power of death which rules this realm.

Yet still they are of the earth, taken from deep within her bosom, a reflection of the living riches which clothe her in matchless beauty.

I must learn to be content with that thought.

My final selection is a delicate circlet fashioned of gold. It too awakens fresh pangs of longing, for it is shaped into the semblance of leaves and flowers, and the stalks of grain which answer to my mother's gentle coaxing alone.

It is even the same warm gold as her hair, rich and deep, the color of corn ready for the harvest.

Carefully I let its weight settle amidst my dark tresses, before leaving my chamber with faltering steps.

He meets me in the throne room; eyes alight with desire and the hope that I might return his affection.

I let him escort me to the feast, suppressing the urge to abandon all courtesy and devour the dishes he has selected.

My resistance is weakening as the sight and smell of each dish urges me to surrender, and it is only the fading strength of my resolve to touch nothing offered by the lord of this realm which helps me to remain unmoved.

Once again he refuses my request for freedom, and though we move on to other topics of discussion his answer causes fresh sorrow to well up within my essence.

If only I had not been taken against my will, how much I would have enjoyed the companionship of this intriguing and intelligent god, the challenge of persuading my mother to at least hear his offer before rejecting his petition for my hand.

Instead I am forced to remain prisoner, and it is only my memories of the world above which help to sustain my spirit and armor me against the first stirrings of friendship and something else I dare not name.

The evening over I return to my chamber. And in the deep hours of the night I call out to my mother, in the hopes that soon I will be free to choose my own destiny.

Silence greets my plea, and I wearily draw the curtains around my bed, welcoming as never before the gentle embrace of Morpheus.

_Note from the authoress: I'm going to cover the rest of the story when I write Hades' perspective, and perhaps Zeus will make an appearance if I can find the inspiration to tackle his part in this tale._

_I'm still toying with the idea of making this story into a series with different figures of Greek legend sharing their stories, so if anyone would like me to do that instead of just Hades and Persephone's story let me know._

_Hope you all enjoyed the chapter._

_Reviews are always welcome._

_Thanks for reading._


	3. Chapter 3 Hades

The soft rustle of silk reaches my ears, as I stand ever hopeful beside the laden banquet table amidst the dark elegance of my throne room.

I have chosen each course with care. Dishes of roasted meats sit beside platters of the choicest fruits.

Delicacies from every corner of the earth rest on trays worth a hundred kingdoms, beside loaves of bread still warm and golden brown.

At the center of the long table stand silver flagons of rich wine, beside goblets of the finest crystal.

And I know that she will not partake of one morsel of bread, or the smallest mouthful of wine.

For she like all immortals knows the laws of my realm, one which humanity is taught from the cradle.

To eat the food of the dead is to sentence yourself to darkness, to know forever the realm of shadows I have commanded since the dawn of the world.

I have enjoyed my duties as lord of the dead, done my best to render justice and reward those deserving of Elysium.

I possess all the riches of he earth, wield power beyond many of my kin and am intimately acquainted with the darkest shadows of the night.

In many ways I prefer my kingdom to the chaos on Olympus, where my brethren squabble over trivialities and seek pleasure in the mortal world.

Until recently I was content.

And then I saw her.

So innocent and beautiful, an immortal maiden untouched by the pettiness and curse of indifference to which my brethren are so often subjected.

And I wanted to bring her to my kingdom, so that her bright presence might for a time hold back the darkest shadows of my realm.

And within the core of my being something was born as I looked upon her face, a desire so consuming that it drove me to carefully plan her abduction, to choose a moment when she would be out from under the watchful gaze of her mother.

I did not then realize the cost to her soul, and to her power which is drawn from the rich and complex song of life.

For she is a child of the earth, and in my realm she is far from the warmth and life she needs to sustain her essence.

Yet that did not keep me from abducting her, making her the unwilling queen of my realm and my bride.

All I saw was her beauty and grace, and a joy which my world has never felt.

I did not think then, of what would come to pass because of my rash act.

As I set course after course before Persephone, I know that more souls have entered my realm; are even now being guided across the river Styx to discover their eternal destinies.

And though some are here due to old age, or illness, or the implacable hand of war, many more are taking that dark journey because of the agony of slow death by starvation.

They come from all corners of the earth, men and women whose spirits bear the marks of cruel and unnecessary death.

One thing sets this growing throng apart from the countless souls given into my care by the Moirae.

The children.

I have never seen so many young souls enter my realm so swiftly. They come in an endless procession, bright spirits who were meant for so much more, each destiny brutally severed by the touch of death.

And it is because of me.

Oh yes I know all too well the cause of so much starvation. Even in this realm, I feel the echoes of Demeter's grief and fury, hear her proclamation that nothing will flourish on the earth until her beloved Persephone is returned to her embrace.

And still I want to keep her, to show her the dark glories of my realm in the hope that she might return my affections.

My eyes meet Persephone's across the laden table, and I smile at her choice of jewels.

Even now she defies me, by wearing the symbols of her mother's strength and sphere of influence.

I had each jewel crafted for her, shaped some of them by strength of will and the careful use of power.

Such is my right as lord of all the earth's riches.

Two hours pass before she rises to return to her chamber.

At least this meal has not been silent, like the first ones where she consented to join me, only to sit in cool indifference to every attempt I made to set her at ease.

She still daily requests her freedom, and I refuse in the hope that in time she might return my love.

The faint stirring of power catches my interest, and I cast my senses outward until I find its source.

Once again Persephone is calling for her mother's aid, but unlike other occasions her strength is greatly diminished.

Wearily I return to my duties, knowing that my choices and desires have led me to this moment of decision.

The weight of pointless deaths lies heavy upon me, and yet I cannot bring myself to return this goddess who has restored something I have thought lost to me for eternity.

Hope.

The hope that through her my kingdom's glory might not reflect only death's terror, but the joy, mystery and utter contentment which awaits those who have lived with honor.

My resolve hardens as more souls are brought before my throne for judgment.

Not unless Zeus commands me will I grant Demeter's petition.

This I swear upon the sacred waters of the Styx.

_Note from the authoress: I've decided to make this story into a series of 1 chapter tales from perspectives of different characters from classical mythology._

_Sorry to anyone who was hoping for another retelling of Hades and Persephone._

_I will finish telling their tale of course, through other chief characters from the legend before moving on to other characters I'm interested in exploring._

_Thanks to the people who have reviewed so far, I'm glad you're enjoying the story._

_Updates will probably be slow in coming, so if you find yourself waiting a while for the next chapter, check out my other tales of Greek mythology on my page._

_As always feedback is welcome._

_Thanks for reading._


	4. Chapter 4 Metaneira

_Note from the authoress: Just in case I forgot to mention it before, I'm basing the chapters about Persephone's legend on the Homeric hymn to Demeter. Whenever possible I'm hoping to base other chapters on other ancient sources, like The Iliad, The Odyssey or Aeneid._

_Also I've recently updated my retelling of the story of Semele. Unlike this story it's written as a novel instead of a series of one chapter stories._

_I'd love your thoughts on my retelling of Semele and her fate, if you've the time to leave comments. I'm having fun writing it, as it's a combination of ideas from sources like Ovid and Homer, and best of all it's based on Handel's gorgeous opera named for the ancient Theban princess._

_I hope you enjoy this chapter._

_Thanks for _reading_._

I have ordered my attendants to withdraw and not disturb me until morning.

My quarters are in darkness, save for the light of a single candle at my bedside and the dying embers of the small fire I ordered lit at my daughters' entreaties.

They do not know that nothing can warm me now, that I care not for the needs of my body nor the sustenance that food can give.

There is little left in our kingdom now, and so I have commanded that my portion of food be given to others whenever I send away the silver trays brought to my door.

Many question the source of this frigid darkness which has cloaked the earth, causing all warmth to flee and countless crops to die.

Some believe that Demeter is angry, that in her wroth she has commanded that nothing flourish on the earth.

The cause of such rage they can only guess at, according to the knowledge which tales of the gods provide and the scraps of information their priests choose to divulge.

Only I and my family know the truth, and it is more tragic than any of the stories bards have concocted as an attempt to understand this pointless suffering of humanity.

Perhaps I even feel guilt, for the fact that unknowingly I played a role in the ruin of my kingdom's hopes, and broke a mother's heart in one futile act of desperation.

The wavering flame of the candle illuminates my face, and the object which lies across my knees.

I clutch it desperately; some instinctual part of my mind urging me to never let it out of my sight.

My fingers trace the delicate embroidery I worked so hard to finish, patterns I have surely memorized over these dark hours of my choice to remain in enforced exile.

Hot tears of grief fall onto the silent folds of this blanket and I let my head rest upon it as I mourn afresh for my little one.

Beneath my cheek its texture is smooth and soft, and I wish that by strength of will alone I might reclaim the child my gift once kept warm.

How happy I was when my son was born, for my husband and I had long ago abandoned the hope that the gods would bless our kingdom with an heir.

I did all I could to keep healthy and rested as the birth drew near, and in the secret places of my mind dared to hope that the child would be a boy.

The labor was long and difficult, and I know that if custom had allowed it my husband would have been with me during those hours of struggle and anxiety.

When the child was put into my arms, I thanked the gods that they had heeded my secret prayers, for he was truly the strong son I had hoped for for many years.

Together my husband and I looked with pride and affection upon our long awaited heir, as I cradled him close wrapped in the blanket I had made.

My daughters were excited at the birth of their brother, and eagerly took up their role as sisters and playmates to their little brother.

I took care to give them each reassurances of my love, often spending an extra hour with my girls when court duties were over for the day.

I refused outright to have a nurse care for my little prince, in direct defiance of the customs of our kingdom.

For too long had I waited for this moment when a son would be born to become heir to the throne of Ellysis.

Normally I am not one who chooses to break with tradition, but my son's care was a matter on which I would not hear any arguments. My husband remarked on my determination, saying that he rarely saw me command the servants with such authority and conviction.

Perhaps Athena or Artemis lent me the courage to speak so boldly, but whatever the reason I am grateful to whatever power gave me strength to insist that I alone would care for my child.

For those memories are now more precious to me than all the wealth of the royal treasury, moments I will prize as some of the most joyful times of my life.

Our subjects rejoiced with us when we announced the birth of a male heir, confident that their little prince would grow into a strong and wise ruler.

If only we had known then of the strange events which would soon take him from us, to a kingdom where all mortals pass according to the will of the Moirae.

That day was like a thousand others. Automatically I rose to begin my duties, never dreaming that I would soon meet a being who would forever change the fate of my kingdom forever.

She came to us at sunset, urged to stay beneath my roof at the request of my four daughters.

Never will I forget my first sight of the goddess in the shape of a mortal woman bent with sorrow and pain. I saw not the dignity and strength she wore like a cloak, nor the knowledge of ages which her dark eyes possessed.

No, I saw only a woman in need of comfort and xenia, and accordingly I offered her the position of nurse to my little son.

I watched as she took him into her arms, held him with such care and tenderness as to satisfy the most anxious of mothers.

There was such fierce joy in her eyes as she cradled my child, a look I knew well, for it had often lent my countenance a dignity and beauty which any immortal would be proud to ware.

I trusted this stranger completely, confident that I had judged her character aright and that she would make my baby's safety her first concern.

Ah if only I had known then, that it was no old woman I had welcomed under my roof, but a goddess ageless and wise beyond mortal understanding who was seeking her lost daughter.

But how could I know?

For she had walked amongst mortals for untold millennia, knew how to conceal her true glory from even the most observant and wise of the race of men.

Only one thing caused me to wonder. The change was subtle, and perhaps only I who knew my child so intimately was able to sense the work of divine hands.

Each time my little one was placed in my arms by his nurse, I sensed that he was clothed in a strange and living glory.

At first I dismissed these impressions, thinking that Asclepius had chosen to bless my child with health and strength.

But gradually I realized that I only felt these sensations each time my boy was handed to me by his nurse.

And so I determined to discover the cause of this strange good fortune.

I ordered trusted guards to keep watch over the prince's chamber, and inform me if anything was amiss.

And one night I heard a gentle tap at my chamber door. Slipping noiselessly from the bed I crossed my chamber, praying that my husband would remain asleep.

I opened the door to be greeted by the tall form of our captain of the guards. At once I knew I had been right to suspect that something was wrong, for the grim set of my friend's jaw and the way he gripped his sword was an attitude I had glimpsed only on the eve of war.

Swiftly he told me of what he had seen, of how in secret this nurse placed my child in the heart of the fire with calm and precise movements.

Immediately I rushed to my son's chamber, and froze in the doorway as I saw the truth of my friend's claims.

With a cry of horror I rushed forward, only to be halted by the outstretched hand of this being who I knew now was no mortal nurse. With awe I watched as she shed her disguise, until she stood before me a goddess filled with anger.

She cast my child to the floor, telling me who she was and of her plan to reward my kindness by granting my child immortality.

The slightest hint of sorrow filled her rich voice as she said that because I had interrupted her work my boy was even now being taken to the realm of Hades.

Drawn by my heartbroken cries my daughters rushed into the room, to the side of their little brother they loved so dearly and had spent many hours entertaining.

In vain did they try to revive him. I watched their efforts still frozen in shock and grief, horrified at how swiftly death had come for my little one.

Even now as I sit here in darkness, I cannot help believing that the guilt of his death is mine alone to carry. Had I not interfered my boy would have been counted amongst the immortals.

Instead I prepared him for the funeral rites with loving care, kept watch with my husband and daughters as his little body was placed on the funeral pyre and consumed by eager flames.

And unlike those other occasions when fire had touched my boy, there were no immortal hands to withdraw him whole and unharmed, no divine voice to speak words of gentle reassurance and gift my little one with endless youth and strength.

Since the funeral feast I have taken no nourishment, and all hope has forsaken my life.

Ah goddess how alike are our fates now, for though you possess wisdom and power you are still first a mother in mourning for her child.

You and I both sit alone, you in the hope that great Zeus will command the lord of death to return your Persephone, and I beseeching Hades to care for the soul of my little one until I join him in Elysium.

I know not whether you hear my thoughts lady of the harvest, but even though your coming turned the bright fires of my joy to ashes, still I share in your sorrow.

If only I had known. If only you had spoken to me sooner of your true purpose.

But who am I a mortal woman to question a goddess in secret, to demand if only in my thoughts the right to be heard and recognized, not just as another human but a mother who misses her child.

Still I will not put aside these thoughts, nor ask for your pardon if they kindle anger afresh within your heart.

You immortal gods who are so like the elements and forces you command, do you never look upon mortals as nothing more than worshipers or sources for amusement?

Do you never seek to question the workings of the Moirae, to notice the subtle things which connect our world to yours?

Demeter you possess divine strength and power I could never hope to wield, and yet you are like me a woman bent with grief.

Something stirs within me as I let my thoughts wander, something I have chosen to forget in the midst of my sorrow.

The sound of my husband's voice and my daughters entreaties to open my door recalls times where I ruled with strength and purpose, determined to be a queen who would not be forgotten even when death came to claim my soul.

Where is that strong queen now?

She has fled with my boy's spirit to the realms of death, and nothing will ever recall her from that place of shadows.

So I answer that voice which urges me to respond to my family's pleas, try to silence it with a hundred explanations each as weak as the last.

But it will not be silenced. Slowly I feel my forgotten fire returning. Only a small blaze as yet, but I know that with the support of my kin and as I return to the duties of ruling it will soon be restored to its former glory.

I gather what strength I still possess and stand tall, once more a daughter of kings and the pride of my ancestors.

I open the door to my family, and receive their embraces eagerly, as one lost in the desert might drink deeply from a spring of cool refreshing water after discovering an oasis.

I take food and drink, and at last prepare myself to once again wear my crown and sit at my husband's side.

As I take my place on my throne the thought comes to me. What if by this one act of defiance I a mortal queen have done what a goddess has not dared, conquered sorrow by accepting the offered strength and love of her kin.

You Olympians may consider humanity nothing more than feeble creations, good only for amusement or the increase of your own glory through story or song.

Great Zeus knows I wish that I had never given my boy into the care of an immortal, but there is one thing which this tragedy has taught me. And it is a truth which I suspect will remain hidden from immortal sight as long as the gods choose to underestimate our worth.

We may not possess the power to alter nature's course, or rouse passion or command the rains to fall. But we possess a strength grounded in our choice to live fiercely, gloriously, drawing upon the love of friends and family whenever our will falters.

And that is a power which more than equals anything a deity can summon.

So think on this lady of the harvest, as you sit and mourn alone, too stubborn to relent and bless the earth once more.

I know what drives your grief, and gods know I sympathize with your loss. But as you sit in the temple my people have built at your command, know that I, Metaneira a mortal queen and mother have done what you have not found the courage to do.

I have put aside my grief for the sake of my husband and children, so that I might help my people until you lift the curse of endless winter from the earth.

I would never dare speak these thoughts aloud, and perhaps you will strike me down for speaking so boldly, but I must say what is in my heart.

It is not lord Hades who is responsible for the deaths of so many mothers and fathers, husbands and wives, and especially the precious children which have died the cruel death of starvation.

No it is you, Demeter who is the cause of this suffering, your grief and fury which prompt Atropos to sever so many threads before their time.

I lay each death at your door lady of the harvest, and hope that in time you will make the choice I struggled through the darkness of bereavement to realize.

As one mother to another I now make this request of you. Look beyond your sufferings to the torments of humanity because you have chosen to punish us for the rash act of one god.

Remember your duty to mankind and to nature, and the creatures of the earth who look to you for nourishment.

And remember the children who have done you no wrong, and the mortal mothers whose grief equals your own each time a child is taken to Elysium.


	5. Chapter 5 Zeus

The moment Persephone was taken; she called out for my aid. And yet I did not hear her, for I was within a temple where many often gather to pray and present me with rich sacrifices.

So absorbed was I in receiving worship from the mortals, that I knew nothing of what had taken place until Heleos came to me in great distress.

He told me of Persephone's abduction, of how she called out to me for help when all efforts to reach her mother had proved futile.

It took all of my skill in persuasion to assure the sun god that I would do all in my power to see that the child was restored to her mother's arms.

He could not know that I was bound by a promise given to the lord of the dead long ago, that according to the decree of the Moirae I would allow him to take and make the daughter of gentle Demeter his queen and bride.

I would come to bitterly regret this promise made in haste, regardless of the fact that it was according to what destiny demanded. But I did not know that when I gave my oath, and so gladly I gave my consent to Hades' request for Persephone to become his bride.

Three days by mortal reckoning passed before the first prayers come up before my throne.

Never since I took up the mantle of king have I heard so many petitions from the mortal realm.

They come from the rich and poor, mothers and children, warriors and slaves, all asking for the same blessings. They cry out for the return of warm days and a fruitful harvest, for the lives of their loved ones and the blessing of fields of ripe grain.

They trouble my spirit, giving me no rest day or night, until at last I am forced to part the clouds and gaze down upon the mortal world.

And what I glimpse fills me with anger that Demeter has permitted men to receive no reward for their toil. I gaze upon the emaciated corpses of children and the creatures of the earth, of people weeping and begging for relief from this harsh famine.

And though I feel a brief stirring of pity, it is quickly overcome by the knowledge that unless something is done, I and all of my kin will no longer receive sacrifices from humanity.

My fair sister Demeter is well aware of this truth, and so I content myself with the hope that she will soon relent and bless the earth. But when many weeks have gone by and winter has not loosened its grip, I know that I have no choice.

And so I send to my sister Hermes, Athena and many other members of my court, urging her to lay aside her grief and let nature resume its course. I remind her of the necessity of sacrifice, that without it our power will diminish and we will have difficulty performing our duties and enjoying the honors we deserve.

Still she remains implacable, declaring that she will listen to my commands only when her Persephone is returned. And so at last I consent out of desperation and the desire to quiet the ceaseless petitions of humanity.

Swiftly I order Hermes to go to the realm of death, and tell its lord that I command him to return his bride so that her mother might be assured of her safety. Again I request her presence on Olympus, that I might bestow on her whatever honor she desires.

I do not have long to wait before Hermes returns with Persephone at his side.

Her time beneath the earth has not left her unmarked, for about her now is the traces of darkness she has willingly accepted into her soul.

But beneath that is the taste of trickery, of food given in secret and consumed in preoccupation and the swiftness of one close to knowing starvation.

Unusual for an immortal, and yet I immediately glimpse the truth.

Despite all that Demeter did to keep her daughter from fulfilling her destiny, it has done now and cannot be thwarted.

Though Persephone took nothing while in the realm of Hades, still he tricked her into eating pomegranate seeds while she was distracted by the prospect of returning to her mother's side.

I watch as mother and child are reunited, as Persephone's essence is strengthened by Demeter's power, and they rejoice greatly.

But soon Demeter draws back, eyes full of dawning horror as she realizes what has been done, and demands from Persephone a true accounting of all that happened since she was stolen away.

Persephone answers truthfully, and Demeter reluctantly admits that Hades now has the right to demand his queen's return.

They come to me on Olympus, and before all the gods I decree that Persephone must return to her dread lord for a third of the year, according to the number of seeds she ate. And though Demeter is furious at my part in her daughter's abduction, in the end she submits to my will.

At her daughter's insistence, and moved at last by mortals petitions she descends to earth and teaches humanity how to store away food for the cold months of winter.

It is Eleusis she blesses with her favor, that kingdom where she thought to bless the little heir with the gift of immortality. Perhaps in recompense for her part in the prince's death she teaches men chosen by the king the skills needed to survive, and makes the temple their monarch built at her command the seat of her grace and power.

All this I watch, and approve, grateful that my stubborn sister has found a way to ensure that we will not lack for sacrifices when she is mourning the loss of her daughter.

For without sacrifices our existence would become even more monotonous, and mortals would no longer gift us with their worship but look instead to their own strength to sustain them in times of darkness.

And that is a possibility I hope will never come to pass, for if that day ever comes, I and my brethren will have lost our purpose for existing, and eternity will become a burden few will shoulder with the ease and grace all immortals learn to cultivate.

Even that is a mask, and mortals must never learn how the one thing they desire above any other treasure can become an inescapable curse. How eternity becomes an endless round of desperate pursuits to fill the empty hours, broken only by the pleasure of receiving sacrifices and venturing to the mortal world for brief amusements.

For this reason I commanded the return of Persephone, so that all in the immortal realm might still receive the things which make our existence bearable.

But Demeter does not know this, and I hope will never receive that knowledge. She does not yet know the cost of forever, nor that it was for the sake of all on Olympus that I demanded her obedience.

Oh she can rage against my will, call me hard and implacable, but she dares not question the will of the Moirae. For they long ago wove Persephone's destiny with my dark brother's thread, and not even I can sway them from weaving a pattern which was destined from the dawn of the world.

_Note from the authoress: That's it for perspectives on the story of Hades and Persephone._

_If anyone thinks that Zeus's thoughts on sacrifices are callous, I took those ideas straight from the Homeric hymn to Demeter, an intriguing and thought provoking read._

_I've many one-shots in mind for this series, so keep a lookout for more chapters. It may take me a while, but I'll definitely finish this story._

_Also check out my other Greek mythology tales, I could definitely use some constructive comments on writing style, dialogue etc on them._

_I hope you enjoyed this chapter._

_Thanks for reading._


	6. Chapter 6 Orpheus, A Consort's Quest

_Note from the authoress: Next I'm tackling the story of Orpheus, and his perspective will be a couple of chapters in length, before switching to ones from Hades, Persephone and Eurydice's view._

_Sources for my retelling of this legend include Ovid's Metamorphoses Book Ten, and Gluck's opera Orpheus and Eurydice._

_Thanks for reading and _enjoy_._

The sound of roaring flames accompanies the sorrowful music of voices and instruments performing a song of mourning, as my Eurydice's body is consumed by fire.

I want to mourn, to cry out at the cruel fate which has taken my bride from me on the day of our wedding.

But I cannot, though everything within me is longing for the release of tears, or the ineffable relief my music always bestows whenever I take up my lyre.

Instead I stand before this pyre built by friends and relatives who had come for our joining, silent and still as a figure carved from stone.

I cannot bring myself to look upon my Eurydice's corpse as flames rise to consume her.

Only a few short hours ago I held her close, pledging before the gods my love and desire to guard her until death claims her soul.

What distresses me most is that I didn't fulfill that promise, for when the ceremony had been completed and we all gathered to feast and dance, we chose to slip away from the guests and dance through the meadows surrounding my home.

I could not know that as we danced that my Eurydice would step upon a snake, which would instinctively lash out in defense.

My calls for aid soon brought the guests running, and though we did all we could in the end death could not be denied.

I don't want to recall her like this, so cold and lifeless dressed in her bridal clothes.

Instead I cling to the memories of our first meeting, where she danced through the summer meadows wild and free.

How I serenaded her with the most passionate music I could compose, pouring all of my admiration into every word and note. How she listened to my songs, and did not see Orpheus son of Apollo, but a man born of two worlds seeking to find the way ordained for him by the Moirae.

She was the first to ever look beyond my music, to hear it for what it was. Not just a demonstration of talent inherited from my father, or even an expression of the joy I took in life.

No she heard and understood the core of my music, knew that it gave utterance to every deep thought and emotion, to the unspoken longings which lay at the center of my soul.

Her voice joined me on that first day we met, offering me hope and the promise of a friend who would help me find my place in the mortal world.

It was for this I loved her most, more than her grace and beauty, or her sweet voice or tender words of reassurance.

She became more than a friend over the months of our courtship, she accepted me into her heart and life, and joyfully consented to become my bride.

Her parents were apprehensive at first, for they saw only Orpheus the king of minstrels, not a youth eager for the love and friendship of their daughter.

Eurydice told me once, that it had taken many gentle words of reassurance coupled with my efforts to show them that I would care for their child, before they gave their consent.

And now I stand here, empty and desolate, on the day which was to be the most joyous of my life.

The accusing gaze of my beloved's father and the hard anger in the eyes of her mother scorches me with an intensity which equals the flames consuming my bride.

I know they are expecting me to play a haunting tune, to pour out all my grief in the music which for all of my life has been my solace and strength.

But I cannot. For the music has been quenched by the death of my Eurydice. No longer can I compose even the simplest of songs to honor her; my voice and lyre are forever silenced by death's implacable decree.

Unless.

Something stirs within me, and it takes me a few moments to realize that for the first time since her death I am daring to hope.

I glance around me, at the crowd of friends and relatives of Eurydice, at the strangers who have come to pay their respects and mourn my loss.

All are sincere in their grief, united with me in my hour of need.

Calmly I ask them to leave me to mourn, and they withdraw with many comforting words and offers of help.

I sit by the pyre, wondering if I dare act on the idea that has just taken root.

No man has ever ventured into the realm of death, except at his appointed time, and no living mortal has ever journeyed to Hades' realm before and hoped to return.

But I am of two worlds, so perhaps there is a chance that I can walk the realm of the dead without fear.

With determination I pick up my lyre and offer silent thanks to whatever god has inspired this desperate quest.

For many days I travel, until I reach the entrance which it is said leads to the underworld.

Cautiously I approach the Taenarian gate, knowing that once I have passed through it there will be no going back.

I take up my lyre and begin to play, a song of loss and entreaty to the lord of the dead as I begin the steep descent.

It is said that the king of the dead is as cold as his realm. And yet I hope that my music will reach him, as it has reached so many others.

My last thought before I step out of the mortal realm is both prayer and entreaty.

Eurydice, wait for me. Be once again my source of inspiration, my strength and my song as I go willingly into death's embrace for your sake.

And thou Apollo my great father, bless my music as I venture into the realms of death, that I might reclaim my bride and live out with her the time ordained to me by the Moirae.


	7. Chapter 7 A Minstrel's Plea

_Note from the authoress: I hope you will enjoy this chapter, which was based partially on my retelling of the Greek legend of Semele called Let Me Know Your Face; specifically the prologue._

_The quotation and much of this chapter is based on Book 10 of Ovid's Metamorphosis, as well as Gluck's opera Orpheus and Eurydice. Reviews are always appreciated._

_Enjoy._

The moment I pass through the gate I know that I cannot turn back. I have chosen to walk this road, one which no mortal has ever traveled, and only the power of my song and the strength of my love will help me in my quest. Beyond I glimpse nothing but a darkness deeper than anything I have ever known. For a moment my resolve wavers, and I wonder what madness has possessed me to seek my bride within the realm of death.

Firmly I banish such thoughts, choosing instead to recall the face of my beloved as she pledged herself to me only a few short hours ago. With every step my resolve strengthens, and the confidence which I have learned over years spent mastering every instrument of mortal and immortal realms fills me with a power unlike anything I have ever before experienced. Darkness is no longer my enemy, but a welcomed friend whose shadows will conceal me from unfriendly eyes. All is silent, save for the constant sound of water as it flows onwards to places beyond the circles of the mortal world. It gives me the inspiration I am seeking, as I raise my lyre and begin to play.

The music pours forth from me; in a way I have not known since my beloved's death, born of the soul deep need for her presence and laughter to once again fill my life. I narrow my focus, composing melodies of depth and complexity I have never dared to play before, thinking that neither gods nor mortals would ever wish to hear music born of sorrow. Even as I finally reach the fabled Stygian shore, I become aware of another melody, one which unconsciously I have woven into my music as a counterpoint to my grief. It is music which I suspect no mortal has ever heard before, for its notes offer tantalizing glimpses of the mysteries of death. I pause for an instant to listen, awed and humbled by the awful splendor of the music which this realm contains.

Is this what awaits every human soul the instant they leave their mortal body? This strange unearthly music which no instrument crafted by mortal hands could ever hope to imitate. I strain every sense to its utmost, longing to hear more of this realm's secrets. Ah if only I were blessed with the strength of Mnemosyne, I would devote all my faculties to recalling every precious note, for such music should never be kept for only the gods to enjoy. There are songs which speak of the struggle and terror and agony of slow death, of the pain of loss and fear of what waits ahead. And yet there are also melodies of such beauty that I find myself moved to tears. They promise peace and reunion, and an eternity where a soul may enjoy every pleasure.

Now I have no need to force my feet to obey me, for they seem to move of their own accord as if drawn by the siren call of eternity's song.

Countless souls seek to hold me back, ephemeral beings which bare little resemblance to the mortals that they once were. I cannot escape their company, for they are all about me, reaching out in mute appeal for something I cannot for the moment name

But at last I realize the terrible power of this realm. For this music is both curse and blessing, as it slowly seduces every soul into offering up all that they were in life, only to be made unwilling captives of eternity's song.

Though it is music far beyond the scope of mortal imagination, it offers neither peace nor comfort; instead it binds and entraps every soul, thus sentencing them to this dismal existence forever. This is far worse than the tales I learned long ago as a child, for they said nothing of this cruel torment, the bitter knowledge that once you enter Hades' kingdom all you once reveled in and held dear is irrevocably lost. I sense beneath every melody chords of raw hunger for what can never be reclaimed, and the desire to recapture even the smallest fragment of what mortals so often take for granted.

I must go on, though everything within me is urging me to linger, so that I might take back with me to the mortal world even the smallest remnant of this music. Once again it is the face of Eurydice which is my shield against this subtle danger, and with renewed purpose I continue my journey. At last I approach the gates of Hades' palace, and before I can request admittance they open silently upon a pillared courtyard. I ignore the splendor of my surroundings, choosing instead to wonder how I might phrase my request to the ruler of this dark kingdom.

When first I set forth upon this quest I thought to simply present my case, arguing that my Eurydice's thread had been severed unjustly, and that as a son of great Apollo I should be granted safe passage through the kingdom of the dead. But I know better now. I might draw upon the strength of my heritage for inspiration and courage, but I must address Hades and his queen with respect and the deference due their position.

So when at last I reach the throne room where countless souls await their turn to be judged, I approach and bow with deep respect. With the ease born of long practice I once again take up my lyre, knowing that this performance will determine not only my future, but the destiny of my beloved. I call to mind the epics of great bards, knowing that their works will serve as inspiration for the song I am about to sing. My voice falters on the first few notes, but soon gains in strength as I present my petition in the hope that I will somehow win my bride's freedom.

"Ye Pow'rs, who under Earth your realms extend,

To whom all mortals must one day descend;

If here 'tis granted sacred truth to tell:

I come not curious to explore your Hell;

Nor come to boast (by vain ambition fir'd)

How Cerberus at my approach retir'd.

My wife alone I seek; for her lov'd sake

These terrors I support, this journey take.

She, luckless wandring, or by fate mis-led,

Chanc'd on a lurking viper's crest to tread;

The vengeful beast, enflam'd with fury, starts,

And thro' her heel his deathful venom darts.

Thus was she snatch'd untimely to her tomb;

Her growing years cut short, and springing bloom.

Long I my loss endeavour'd to sustain,

And strongly strove, but strove, alas, in vain:

At length I yielded, won by mighty love;

Well known is that omnipotence above!

But here, I doubt, his unfelt influence fails;

And yet a hope within my heart prevails.

That here, ev'n here, he has been known of old;

At least if truth be by tradition told;

If fame of former rapes belief may find,

You both by love, and love alone, were join'd.

Now, by the horrors which these realms surround;

By the vast chaos of these depths profound;

By the sad silence which eternal reigns

O'er all the waste of these wide-stretching plains;

Let me again Eurydice receive,

Let Fate her quick-spun thread of life re-weave.

All our possessions are but loans from you,

And soon, or late, you must be paid your due;

Hither we haste to human-kind's last seat,

Your endless empire, and our sure retreat.

She too, when ripen'd years she shall attain,

Must, of avoidless right, be yours again:

I but the transient use of that require,

Which soon, too soon, I must resign entire.

But if the destinies refuse my vow,

And no remission of her doom allow;

Know, I'm determin'd to return no more;

So both retain, or both to life restore."

I continue my song, driven to an eloquence and complexity of composition which I know I will never be able to duplicate once I have returned to the world above.

Only when death's lord and lady turned towards me at last do I realize the astonishing power of my petition. For within their gazes is something I thought never to glimpse in the faces of divine beings who consider mortals of little importance.

Compassion and yes, the unmistakable flicker of understanding briefly graces the stern countenance of the lord of this realm. Encouraged by this response I continue to play. For what seems like hours I let my music tell its own story, unaware of anything save the need to once again hold my beloved. At last I strike the final chord and lower my instrument, unable to sing another note.

It is only then that I become aware of the silence, not only within the throne room, but throughout Hades' entire kingdom. A silence which is at last broken by the sound of the voice I love more than anything else in the world.

"Orpheus."


End file.
